In an industry that thrives on reinvention, Lorde has always moved to the beat of her own creation. Now, four years after the sun-soaked introspection of Solar Power, the enigmatic New Zealander has announced her fourth studio album, Virgin, due out on 27th June — a project that promises to be her most emotionally exposed and artistically unguarded work to date.
The announcement arrives alongside the blazing release of new single What Was That — a track that feels less like a carefully packaged comeback and more like a sudden burst of raw electricity. Co-produced with Jim-E Stack and Dan Nigro (best known for crafting Olivia Rodrigo’s breakout sound), the single is immediate and volatile, trading the polished sheen of past efforts for something far more instinctive. There’s no calculated cool, no ironic distance. Instead, Lorde barrels straight into her own vulnerability.
The impact has been instant. What Was That skyrocketed to #1 on Spotify US, her first chart-topping moment on the platform since breakthrough hit Royals over a decade ago — a stunning return to form that’s less about nostalgia and more about evolution. It also debuted at #3 in the UK and #5 globally, cementing Lorde’s status as not just a pop innovator, but a generational voice still capable of commanding the global stage.
But despite the commercial success, What Was That doesn’t sound like it was made to top charts. It feels intimate, like something she had to write before she could move forward. In place of ornate production are jagged edges and emotional immediacy — the sound of an artist not trying to please, but trying to say something. The music video — filmed across New York City and featuring a surprise performance in Washington Square Park — captures the stripped-back, spontaneous essence of this new Lorde chapter. Shot with the kind of gritty realism usually reserved for indie cinema, the video reinforces what the music already suggests: Virgin is about peeling away layers rather than adding them.
This title, Virgin, is provocative, but not in the way you might expect. It’s not about sexuality, but rather rebirth. A return to emotional instinct. A creative starting over. It suggests a kind of sacred undoing — an unlearning of past personas, pop expectations, and the weight of being “Lorde.” It invites us to meet Ella Yelich-O’Connor, the woman behind the myth, perhaps more than ever before.
Since exploding onto the scene with Pure Heroine in 2013, Lorde has shaped — and reshaped — what pop can be. Her debut made brooding minimalism cool. Melodrama turned heartbreak into an opera. Solar Power was a sunlit detour into calm and complexity. Now, Virgin feels like the moment she stops observing from the outside and finally dives headfirst into the messy core.
This time around, the lyrics don’t sound designed to be quoted — they feel lived-in. There’s a looseness, a vulnerability, an urgency. And if What Was That is any indicator, the album won’t be concerned with polish or perfection. Instead, it’s likely to embrace chaos, clarity, contradiction — all the things that make being alive (and a woman in 2025) so intensely human.
While full tracklist details remain under wraps, fans can already pre-order Virgin, and speculation is swirling over how deep this new era will cut. But one thing is clear: Lorde is done being the voice of a generation. She’s too busy figuring out her own. And that, perhaps, is what makes this album feel so vital. At a time when pop often feels driven by algorithm and artifice, Virgin signals a return to something messier, stranger, truer. It’s not a comeback. It’s a cleansing. This is Lorde without the armour. No filter. No sunscreen. Just fire.
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